


Worth the wait

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Confession game, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: When the gang meet for drinks one Friday night, they decide to play a confession game - everyone is to reveal one detail or another about his or her sex life.And Brienne is not happy with the kind of questions asked.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 10
Kudos: 104





	Worth the wait

**Author's Note:**

> A modern take (sort of) on the drinking game.  
> Thank you for reading and hope you have fun with it :)

Sansa pondered for a second or two, then with a naughty smile and a long gulp of her drink, replied, “About a couple of weeks back.” A sound of collective _‘ooohs’_ trailed her raunchy disclosure, and she went on, “No more than a one night stand, but it was good,” her eyes shining with retrospective satisfaction. “He was a sex god, going on and on--” she paused to let out a heavy breath. “He was amazing, and by the time I woke up the next morning, I was all sore and barely able to walk.” 

Her ears burning at the intimate depth of the interrogation, Brienne sought refuge in her phone, considering it wise to pretend she’d received a text whilst racking her brain for an excuse to get her out of there. If not immediately, then later, her friends would join forces against her, nudging and pushing her for embarrassing details. She had no intention of making her pathetic sex life public. There was no way she’d let the others know she hadn’t even kissed a man for ages.

That Jaime was sitting right beside her only aggravated her distress, the rousing mix of his aftershave and something more that was to do with his body, shooting straight up her nostrils and spreading through every inch of her, making matters worse for her nerves.

“And what about you?”

Brienne covertly glanced up at Tyrion, dreading, for a moment, if she was the target of his question. But fortunately, he was focussed on Bronn, intently awaiting his reply.

“This morning,” Bronn bragged, smug, as usual, about his latest conquest. “I fucked her until she screamed herself hoarse.” He stopped to cast a gloating look around, as if challenging the others to come up with a better answer. “I swear everyone within a mile would’ve guessed what was goin on,” he exaggerated with a smirk.

“As expected,” Sansa agreed with a genial smile, her eyes settling on Margaery. “Can’t wait to hear your story now.”

Margaery crossed her legs and leaned back into the cushions. “Last night,” she said, licking her lips. “The things he did to me were mind-fuckin-blowing--” A look of pure bliss washed over her lovely face, illuminating her with a glow of contentment and the lust for more. “Just the thought of it drives my hormones crazy, making me want him all over again.”

Sansa went a step further when she asked, “Did he go down on you?” She appeared to be keen on exchanging elaborate notes, or even taking tips from the more experienced woman, perhaps.

“Oh, he did a lot more than that.” Margaery brought down her voice with the air of someone revealing a secret that ought not to be mentioned in polite company. “A _lot_ more. So many things you’d never imagine, my dear.”

Sansa nodded knowingly. “Trust me, I _can_ imagine.” The two women exchanged looks that seemed to pass on more information than a context-less onlooker could perceive.

For a while, there was silence, and Brienne, relieved that this was the end of the ordeal, was about to steer the conversation to something less personal, when Sansa turned her attention to her. “When was the last time you had sex, Brienne? And how did it turn out to be?” 

She went very still, unable to meet her friend’s eyes, her tongue hardening to lead, her brain, freezing to a useless lump, the wide array of excuses she’d gathered over the last few minutes, refusing to make their way out of her head. She could feel the cushions shift on her right, and it did her no good, the presence of the man beside her, one of the primary contributors to her messed-up frame of mind.

 _Jaime._

Just the name floating around in her head was enough to get her to sigh. Deeply. Wistfully. While sex had been a part of her life, so far-- _far_ , dating back about a year, weeks before she’d broken up with Hyle, it had been just that. A means to scratch a carnal itch. When it came to her dreams, however, it was a different story, the recollection of so many hot and sweaty nights making her wish she was alone right now. The frantic lovemaking sessions her subconscious indulged in, belonged to a different league altogether, but unfortunately, the man who had done more to her in a dream than Hyle and a couple of others had for real, would never feel the same about her. A fantasy was all it would ever remain.

“Brienne?”

“I--um--” she stammered, her palms clammy, “I--”

“Last week?”

Brienne squirmed, not wanting to deal with this anymore.

“A month ago?” Tyrion made a wild guess.

Before anyone else could seize a chance to have a go at her, Brienne looked Sansa right in the eye, not curtly, yet firm enough to make her point. “I’d rather not discuss this.”

Margaery, who was seated to her left, reached over to take her hand. “Fine, we won’t push you any further,” she soothingly assured her. “Sorry for being overly inquisitive. This was supposed to be a light-hearted drinking game, but if the idea of such confessions makes you uncomfortable, we might as well stop and engage ourselves in something else--”

“How about you, Lannister?” Bronn asked Jaime, paying no heed to Margaery. “Now that the ladies and I have revealed our dirty little secrets, let’s hear from you--”

“I’m not interested in this ridiculous game either,” Jaime shot back, for some reason, looking pissed-off with the probing. “I--”

“Come on, bro,” Tyrion tried to wheedle him into cooperating. “This is just a way to pass a Friday night, something to kill the week’s stress.”

Brienne suddenly felt weak and dizzy. She didn’t have the will power to bring herself to be a compelled audience to Jaime’s tale of his sexual escapades. She was strong and adept at hiding her feelings, but not to this extent. She just… just wouldn’t be able to stay put and listen to him start off on which of his leggy admirers he’d got down with. Deciding it was time to detach herself from the gang, she got up. “I’m going home.” 

Without stating a reason nor bothering to cite an excuse, she picked up her handbag and walked out of there in a huff.

+++++

Stripped down to her bare skin, Brienne examined herself in the mirror. Too tall, would be the first impression anyone would gather of her. Nearly every part of her body was flawed in some way or the other. Face spattered with innumerable freckles. An overly long neck. Breasts small enough to compete with a teenager’s and hips too broad by the average woman’s standards. She wasn’t someone a man like Jaime would even look twice at if she didn’t happen to be his friend. For a handsome dude who’d once dated Cersei, an ex Miss. Westeros, he’d surely have sky-high standards. And being surrounded by the prettiest ladies everywhere he went, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find someone as beautiful as his ex-lover.

Which was why, it would never matter that she’d been aching from within, pining for him. She would never let it come to light, because if he ever came to know she’d been secretly in love with him for months--

“Wench.” A loud knock accompanied his frantic call.

Startled by the unexpected intervention, she pulled out a bathrobe from her wardrobe and wrapped herself in it. What the hell was he doing here at this time?

“Brienne.” A louder rap to the door followed his impatient voice, giving out an impression that he might break the door and barge in if she refused to let him in. “I need to talk to you. I--” 

“Hang on a second.” Securing the robe tightly, she made her way across the room, her mind, busily comprehending the variety of possible reasons for his untimely visit.

He stormed in as soon as she unlocked the door for him. “You left mid-way.” He was panting, as if he’d climbed a fleet of stairs to reach her. “You could’ve waited a bit longer--”

“For what?” Much to her displeasure, at the mere sight of him her inner feelings were beginning to surface, lowering her defenses, pulling down the mask she’d worn all along. “For you to describe your prowess in bed to the most intimate detail possible? To sit back and hear you boast about your conquests and mind blowing bedroom exploits like Bronn and Margaery did?”

“Conquests? What the hell do you mean--”

“I hate the game,” she cried, not interested in any explanation he might present. “I couldn’t stand the sight of everyone bragging about their achievements. Particularly _you_.” Everything she’d bottled up inside her came out in an explosion of words, the harsh truth that she could never have him, the thought of him moving on from Cersei to find another of her league sooner or later, the frustration that she could never be _his type_ , as he usually put it. “Yes, I haven’t had sex for about a year,” she admitted, attacking his eyes with hers, daring him to mock her. “And that’s because making love to someone means a lot to me. I’m not a person who jumps into one night stands--” 

“It’s been more than a year for me, wench.”

Brienne grew quiet at his words, taking some time to process them. Could it be…? Did it mean… ?

“I haven’t even kissed anyone for ages,” he softly carried on, approaching her as he unwrapped before her, one revelation after the other. “Cersei was my last.” She wanted to believe him, but this was too good to be true. For a man of his good looks and charisma, this sounded like exaggeration. “I thought you knew me, Brienne.” Disappointment at her hurried conclusion was all over his handsome face. “Like you, I too am not someone who succumbs to the momentary temptation of one night stands.”

His electrifying gaze left her pleasantly tingling all over and conscious of her underdressed state. “Jaime,” she started, tugging at her robe to cover herself properly, “I--”

“Believe me. I would _never_ want to sleep with someone unless I have feelings for her.” Before she could react, he was close enough to count her freckles. “If only you had lingered on to hear me out, Brienne.”

She fell into another well of possible implications of his words, of doubt, of confusion, of her own lack of self-confidence. “I thought--”

“That I’d fuck every third woman I run into at a bar?” He sounded annoyed and upset, his eyes complaining, hurt that she’d accused him of something he’d never venture into. “Why do you think I broke up with Cersei? And why, if not for a solid reason, would I try my level best to avoid all these women who vie with each other for my attention?”

She gulped, swept into the depths of his stormy eyes. “And what might that reason be?”

A long intense look followed, cutting through her thoughts, sizzling enough to melt her down to a helpless pool. “I love you, Brienne.” 

His lips were on hers before she could reciprocate, overpowering her, leaving her weak-kneed and dizzy. He tasted of musk and mint and sweat, and all she could do was close her eyes and give in, to give him her mouth, to offer him her body, her mind, her heart, her… everything. She was all his, like she’d always been in every instance of her subconscious escapades, surrendering to his command, yet ravenous for him. He kissed her hard, taking her tongue and rolling it with his like he was making love to it, this kiss, their first and the most sensual experience she’d been through, building up her anticipation for what was to come. He stirred in her, a thousand varying sensations, each, exhilarating, all of them dominating every nerve she possessed, leaving no room for any other thought nor the ability to feel anything else. She was drunk in him, powerless. She was beginning to drown in him, helpless. He was delicious, and she was insatiable, not content with just enough, but hungry for more. She pressed into his body, the bulge meeting her hips, driving her need to dizzying heights. Horny and aching to have him nestled in her moist depths, she kissed him like crazy, her desire, undiluted, her passion, demanding, the fire she was burning in, soaring to an inferno. 

Many times, she’d touched herself during those long, sleepless nights, stretching herself out on the bed and spreading her legs wide. Countless times, she’d run her hands over her breasts, massaging them, pulling sharply on her nipples until they stiffened under her touch, closing her eyes and picturing his hands, his tongue, his teeth to be the culprit. So many cravings, she’d satisfied herself, cupping her soft mound and sliding her fingers between her slick, wet folds, bringing herself to a shrieking orgasm, his perfect body in her mind’s eye, his name on her lips.

But none of that came even close to this. Just a kiss, this was, a sweetly passionate fusion of their mouths, yet so wildly erotic, it was turning out to be, driving her out of her mind.

This time, he was for real.

“Jaime,” she whimpered into his mouth, clinging on to him as if she’d die if they parted. She needed this contact to last forever, this union, this merging of their mouths, their bodies. She needed to feel his warm muscles pushing into her soft flesh. She needed the hot burning friction of his stubble on her delicate parts, the sound of his prickly facial hair, rubbing against her, turning her skin to a deep shade of red. She needed to feel his cock inside her, thick and hard, breaching her shields, penetrating her, harder than she could take it, deeper… deeper… filling the emptiness that had been her only companion for years. 

She wanted to be his woman. She wanted him to be hers. And if it weren’t for their need to refill their lungs, she’d never have broken this beautiful moment.

“Kissing, making love to someone means a lot to me, Brienne,” he softly echoed her stand, his hot breath spreading across her face, his touch engulfing her in the fire he was burning in. “I’d only ever do it if I’m in love with her.”

No further explanation was needed, nor was any prompting, and when he undid her robe and slid it off her shoulders, her breasts swelled and her nipples lifted, screaming for his attention, urging him to get on with it and her under him. Grabbing a firm hold of the nape of her neck to pin her to his lips, he began kissing her again, grinding his body into hers, giving her another arousing glimpse of his erection through his jeans. His hard chest pushed into her, crushing her soft breasts, his fingers, playing, teasing, twisting and pinching her nipples, his mouth, consuming her like he’d been starving for years… 

All this was so arousing, so damn painful, a sweet pain, though it was, and he had her at his mercy. 

She led him to the bed, her lips never leaving his, her tongue all over his mouth, her hands busying themselves with his shirt, his belt, his jeans. One at a time and meticulously, she worked her way through each piece of his clothing, before losing patience the next moment and pouncing on him in a mad scramble for his buttons and buckles, her eagerness to get him naked and pressing into her, making simple things like undoing a button or pulling down a zipper, a mammoth task to be accomplished. She was hungry for his skin on hers, desperate for him to alleviate the incessant throbbing inside her. “I’ve loved you for ages,” she confessed, thrusting her aching nipples into his hard chest when she’d ripped open his shirt and cast it away. “It’s you, I’ve been dreaming of, Jaime. Night after night.” Kisses, gasps for air and frantic attempts at getting his pants off punctuated her words as she tumbled on the bed. “I need you.”

Apprehensive of what he might think of her, she shivered when he glanced down at her, his eyes slowly traveling all over her as he got rid of whatever remained of his clothes, taking in her breasts, her stomach, her crotch. “I presume no one has ever gone down on you,” he guessed, licking his lips, and before she could reply, he got on after her and spread her legs apart, his head moving between her thighs, his mouth embarking on a journey towards her soft folds. Tiny, gentle kisses, he placed on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, each, a bolt of lightning, sparking in her, lust like never before, a need like no other.

Every time he moved, his coarse stubble ate into her tender skin, every scrape, every brush, an agonizing touch of misery, a scorching sensation of bliss. He breathed down her mound, taking a whiff of her scent before settling down to unleash the power of his mouth upon her. He ran his tongue down her slit, then sucked and nibbled at her folds, each of them in turn, devouring her, sending her head spinning. She clutched at the sheet, to get a grip, to keep herself from crumbling, but when it began to get more intense, all she could do was relent and surrender, to let him have his way, to absorb with relish, all that he did to her. He was a man unstoppable, his grip on her thighs, so firm, his nails digging into her soft flesh so deeply that it was starting to hurt her. But she liked it, this pain, this torture, this experience of a man tasting the intimate depths of her. She pushed her hips into his face, wanting more, wanting to show him that he was the one, that she was ready for anything he wanted to do to her. His tongue darted in and out, faster and faster, eating whatever was laid out before him, feasting on her. 

“Th--this feels far better than what Sansa and Margaery described,” she gasped in admiration and arousal, dragging her fingers through his hair and binding him to her. When he got to her clit, flicking his tongue with abandon, sucking and making a meal of her little pleasure bud, she let out a shudder, her walls contracting and tightening around him, her stomach muscles fluttering, her senses soaring to peaks she’d never ascended before. She moaned as he continued to hold on to her, licking her furiously, sucking the sanity out of her, blowing her brain to bits. She could feel herself growing wetter and wetter, caving in to his relentless tongue, his skilled wandering lips. Her heels pressed hard against his shoulders, digging into him when his hand moved up her belly, pressing her down into the soft bed as he continued to lick her. The teasing was simply too much to bear. She needed him so badly. She needed him now, else she’d implode under the stress. When she could stand it no more, she jerked his head away to look him in the eye, silently begging him for more, demanding his cock. 

And Jaime did not need to be asked twice.

His mouth, ruthless and merciless, he crawled up her body, kissing his way along her hips, her stomach, her ribs... plucking at her soft flesh with his teeth, licking away the droplets of sweat he met. His stubble scratched its way across a blazing trail along her skin, the sensation, destroying her, leaving behind red patches all over. She gasped for air when his hot breath spread over her, and when he reached her chest, her tongue gently nudging her nipples, his hands, squeezing her breasts, her mind, her senses were fully and completely in his control. She felt his hard tip pulsating at the threshold of her wetness, seeking entrance, impatient to finish this, to take what was his. She could sense the throbbing, the itch, the drunken need in him. 

Kissing up the long column of her neck, he nudged her legs apart with his knees. She was ready for him, slick and soaked with her arousal. When he slowly eased into her, she could feel her inner walls opening, adjusting, taking him deep inside her. He pulled back out, and when she whispered his name in his ear, he plunged again into her, this time, to the hilt, his balls hitting her thighs. The feeling of him filling her was like no other. Her mind was fuzzy, her filthy dreams colliding with reality, the two, for the first time, merging, making it difficult for her to tell which was which. A deep heat began to spread like lava in her loins. Grunting and growling, he began to pound her with ferocity, like a man who’d want no more than this moment of pleasure. Her breasts heaved up and down, her nipples erect in attention, responding to him, his to control. His tongue reaching out to the farthest depths of her mouth, they were connecting in the way she had so desperately yearned for all these months. 

Her body shook and convulsed as he worked his long shaft into her. Once. Twice. Again. Again...

“Faster, Jaime,” she moaned with delicious pleasure, needing him farther in, deeper, reaching out to the most intimate corners of her. Her legs wound tight around him, her toes curled in desperation as he kept thrusting into her, over and over again, their bodies crashing into one another, his strong hard thighs slapping against hers.

“Just like that,” she cried, loud and hoarse, when he drove into her with everything he had. Each thrust hit her hard, long and deep, frenzied and relentless, those strong hands claiming her breasts, clawing them, pinching them, squeezing and caressing them, and she pushed back against him with matched vigour and fervour. Their bodies were glistening in sweat, their primal grunts, the mingled shouts of their names, growing louder and louder. “ _Yes,_ ” she screamed, when he hit her g-spot, not once or twice by chance, but again and again, her hips slamming against his and bouncing back onto the mattress so hard, with such force, that the bed shook under the strain of their movements, creaking under the pressure of their wild fucking. By now their moans and screams had gotten so high-pitched that she was sure the neighbours could hear them, the bedroom walls barely enough to contain their passion as she grew closer and closer to a final moment of pleasure. 

Then, it was upon her. A moment like none before. “Jaime,” she shouted, no words but his name on her lips when she came, coming apart around him in a sensation of pure bliss and blinding pleasure.

She held on to him in a tight grip, her eyes shut, her mind taking in his scent and the flavour of sex in the air as she let herself be carried along with every move of his hips. She could sense his need for a release, feel his tension, every plunge, a step closer to their ultimate union, every grunt, every moan, every shout of her name, telling her she was the one. Not any of those pretty women she’d always been envious of. She continued to dance with him, meeting his thrusts, matching his tempo. Her mouth sought out his when she could feel the tremors of his groans travelling down her body, the sight of the veins straining in his neck telling her he was nearly there.

“I wished we had done this long back,” he panted, pumping into her, harder, faster, restless and desperate. “I wish--” his speech was hampered by a break, a need for air in his lungs. “I -- I wish I’d told you much earlier that you’re beautiful.” He was at the threshold of his peak, at the edge, ready to take the fall. “I wish--” he paused to level his eyes with hers “I love you,” he gasped, bending to kiss her again. “I love you, Brienne,” he cried out again, taking her lower lip between his teeth and giving it a tug. “I--” She felt him shudder and tremble and stretch her out like hell. 

When he was done and spent, he came to a halt, falling atop her, his limp and sweaty body, shaking and quivering against hers. And slowly, with hers, his breathing began to steady, his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of her breasts.

“That was best sex I’ve ever had,” she whispered with a contented smile, her lips seeking the hot familiarity of his again. “While I’m not sore like Sansa--”

Jaime pinned her down with his weight. “Stay with me in bed for a day, wench,” he breathed, peppering her lips, her chin with kisses that were droplets of molten fire. “And you’ll be glad it’s the weekend and you don’t have to go to work until Monday.”

“You can take all the time you want with me, Jaime.” She let her fingertips snake down the slippery dampness of his back. “Tonight was worth the wait, worth every second I’ve spent pining for you.” 

His fingers grazed the contours of her face, pushing back rogue strands of hair that met him on the way. “It’s always worth waiting to be with the one you love, wench.” He bent down to kiss her deeply, properly. “ _Always_.”


End file.
